


The Rise of the Phoenix

by Fictlionchick1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Demons, F/M, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictlionchick1/pseuds/Fictlionchick1
Summary: Elena Madison meets Sam Winchester in a gas station and becomes irrevocably entwined in his life-but what happens when Sam starts digging deeper into her past?Edit: 69 hits, nice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but life caught up.

Meeting the Winchesters was purely accidental. I was working a case where three people had had their hearts ripped out and bodies hacked apart on the full moon for three months in a row. I was at a Gas N' Sip, stocking up on junk food and beer, when a tall, well-muscled man knocked into me from behind. I dropped the bag of high-fat, low-nutrition chips I'd been holding and stumbled, trying not to step on them. "Son of a bitch," I swore, and turned, ready to chew out the poor bastard who knocked into me, only to stop, stunned.  
"I am so sorry," the man said, voice deep and hypnotizing.  
"You gotta be shittin' me," I muttered. "Sam Winchester?"  
His expression turned guarded. "I dont know what you're talking about. My name is Keith Simpson, may-"  
"Oh, stop, I'm a hunter," I said, extending a hand for him to shake. "Elena Madison, friend of Bobby Singer's. How is he, by the way? I haven't heard from him in a while."  
Sam's face relaxed.  
"He's doing good."  
I smiled. "That old geezer is the closest thing I've ever had to a father," I said. Bobby was more than a father to me. He had seen me at my worst and hadn't judged me by it or been disgusted. He'd helped me through the toughest time of my life.

"So, you just passing through or working a case?" I asked.  
"Working a case," Sam said.  
"Werewolf, right? I'm working it too. I have a room at the local motel, if you want to combine forces, and if you don't mind bras and beer cans all over the place."  
He laughed. "That sounds amazing, but my brother is with me, so unless you don't mind sharing a bed...  
“C’mon, Sam. This isn’t summer camp. Boys and girls can sleep in the same bed without it being automatically being considered sexual.”  
He laughed, cheeks stained light pink. “Well, Dean and I are going to do some library research. Meet you there tonight?”  
I smiled.  
“Great! Well, I’m at Cresthill suites in town, room 441,” I said, pulling a pen out of my pocket and writing it on his palm. “Knock twice quickly, then twice slow. You wouldn’t believe the touble I’d have avoided if I told people to do that earlier.”  
He chuckled and checked out, leaving me to consider the pros and cons of sour cream and onion vs barbecue. Ah, what the hell, I though, grabbing both. It’s not like a few extra carbs will kill me.  
I also examined the pitiful collection of underwear they had. There was a black lacy pair I found hard to resist, but shook the idea off. No way was I going to tumble a dude with his brother in a bed next to us. That was just crossing a line. Unless... Hmm. I wonder how quiet he can be. I shrugged and picked up the pair. No reason I couldn’t wear them without getting laid.  
I unlocked my trunk, but paused to wipe a smudge off my back bumper. My ‘54 Bel-Air was spotless, baby blue paint job clean and sharp. It had an original motor and body, with vintage plates. It was a damned sweet ride. I loved it more than life itself.  
“You and I have seen some shit, Honey,” I said, using the affectionate nickname I’d dubbed her with the minute I spotted her in Bobby’s junkyard. I shoved my multitude of plastic bags in the trunk and sped off into the sunset, humming along to Halsey’s ‘Walls Could Talk.’  
When I got to the hotel, my eyes were immediately drawn to the 67’ Chevvy Impala in the parking lot. It had all the grace and polish of any vintage Chevvy, but where Honey was ice, this car was night. I whistled appreceatively as I pulled in next to it, and imagined Honey's engine gave a little grumble as I pulled the key out of the ignition.  
"I'm sorry, Honey, you know I didn't mean it," I soothed, patting the dash.  
I hummed to myself as I got up to my hotel room. The piece of paper in the doorway was in place, but the bit of mechanical pencil lead I'd taped to the bottom corner of the door was broken. Someone had entered my room while I was gone.  
They might even still be there.  
I dropped my bags and drew my gun in one hand and my silver knife in the other. I took a deep breath and slammed open the door, checking all visible areas. No one in the main room.  
Then stong arms siezed me from behind. I rammed my elbow back into his ribs three times, stomping on his instep. His arms loosened slightly, but he held on to me. I twisted around and smashed my forehead into his nose, ramming my knee up between his legs, hard. He let out a strangled groan of pain and stumbled back. I twisted free and aimed my gun at him, backing up.  
"Who are you and why- Sam?"  
"Hey, Elena," he said, clutching his nose. His voice sounded congested, and I realized I'd broken his nose. I sighed.  
"If you wanted to make sure I was human, you could've just asked instead of ambushing me. Then I wouldn't have kneed you in the family jewels."  
I spun around and grabbed the arm of the man creeping up behind me, twisting inward and down. He howled and stumbled forward, letting me bring my knife up to his throat. "And I thought you two were supposed to be good," I mocked, twisting slightly harder before shoving the man at the bed next to Sam. I held the knife I'd just threatened him with up to the fading light from the open doorway.  
“Silver,” I said, pulling my sleeve up and slicing it across my arm. Blood spilled across my split skin, and I pulled my sleeve down before it healed. I tossed the knife to Sam.  
“Your turn.” He sliced his own arm, then handed the knife to the other man.  
“Dean, I presume?” He winked at me, pulling his sleeve up farther than strictly neccesary to show fairly buff shoulders. I laughed. “Oh, sweetie, I’ve seen bigger than you. Actually,” I glanced at Sam, “I’m looking at bigger than you.” Dean looked shocked, and Sam burst out laughing.  
“Never let it be said that you don’t have a sense of humor,” he said, still chuckling. I surreptitiosly used the toe of my boot to shove a week-old, grimy bra under the bed. Dean noticed and fake-leered at me. I gave him a warning look. “Well, despite how buff you two may be, I still had no problem handing you your asses.”  
Dean looked sullen, but nodded, and Sam had no problem agreeing.  
“I’m going to get our stuff from the Impala,” Dean announced. I gaped at him.  
“That beautiful piece of ass is yours?” Sam made a choking sound, and Dean looked proud. “Yes she is. 67’ Chevvy. She was our father’s, so she’s fully outfitted for hunting, plus a few things we added ourselves.”  
“I’d be jealous... If I wasn’t in a 54’ Chevvy Bel-air.”  
“No way.”  
“Yes way, I’m parked right next to you. If you’re nice I might let you take her for a spin.”  
So I can bed Sam, I didn’t say. Dean glanced between me and Sam and said loudly, “Sammy, want to give me a hand?” Sam rolled his eyes and followed. I knew it was wrong, but I focused my hearing on them and heard Dean say, “Dude, if you don’t hit that I might kill you.”  
I chuckled and went into the bathroom to ‘bandage’ my cut, using it as an excuse to cover it up. The wound had already mended, leaving a line of puckered skin that was barely visible to the naked eye.  
I slapped a pad of gauze onto my arm and taped it down with medical tape. Sam and Dean had returned, and I could hear them talking quietly in the room.  
"What do you think of her?" That was Dean.  
"She's nice. A smart-ass, though. She seems kinda sad, but hides it well."  
I chuckled to myself. He had no idea.  
I returned to the room in a thin tank and short shorts. I ignored the way Sam gaped and slid into bed, sighing as the sheets slid along my freshly-shaved legs. I may or may not have shaved elsewhere, too. Just in case.  
Sam flopped next to me wearing only boxers, showing off his exquisite physique and tattoo. I flipped over to face my side of the bed, afraid I might spontaneously combust if I stared at him any longer.  
"You have a tattoo?" Sam said after a moment. I nodded and said into my pillow, "I'll show you tomorrow, but if you talk to me before then I might kill you." He rumbled a laugh. He was so close I could feel it.  
In a way, it was comforting, and I had no trouble at all falling asleep.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elena, Sam, and Dean grow closer to finding their killer, and Sam grows closer to finding out the truth.

When I woke I found I'd somehow migrated across the bed and against Sam. He was spooning me with my head on his shoulder, cradling me against his chest.  
I hadn't had a single nightmare.  
I tried to slowly roll out of his arms, but he murmured something in my ear and hugged me tighter, and I made an executive decision that it maybe wouldn't be the worst decision in the world to let him cuddle me a little longer. I relaxed against his warmth.  
I almost killed Dean when he barged in five minutes later. I probably would've if he hadn't been carrying several grease-spotted paper bags carrying the smell of grease, salt, and meat. "If you two lovebirds are done being tooth-rottingly sweet, we have another body, sans heart."  
I was suddenly wide awake, despite Sam's warmth beckoning me from behind.  
"Nothing like a dead body to wake a girl up," I grumbled.  
But even that thought couldn't put me off food. I scarfed down my bacon and eggs in record time.  
I noticed Dean's longing glance at my car as we exited the motel room, and as much as I hated it, I tossed the keys to him. His eyes lit up like a little kid's on Christmas, but I held him back from the door.  
"If you get a single scratch on her, I will burn your eyes out in the time it takes to count to three," I threatened. He scoffed, not knowing how capable I was of doing exactly that.  
The crime scene was a clearing in the woods. The Vic, a male camper, lay half in and half out of the tent. The back half of the tent was ripped open and spattered with blood.  
The Vic's chest was shredded open, ribs shattered and flesh in ribbons. Sam and Dean examined the body while I walked around the scene looking for anything an unenlightened policeman might have missed. I followed the smell of blood and flesh to a patch of disturbed dirt. I dug my fingers into the soft earth, uncovering a very crusty, very bloody human heart. Unfortunately, I did not come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, a human heart until I was holding it.  
"Motherfucker!" I screeched, dropping it and waving my hands wildly. Sam came rushing over with three policemen and a wildly laughing Dean. I glared at him as Sam handed me a wet napkin. "It's not funny," I snarled at Dean, who was still busting his gut laughing. Even a reasonably seasoned hunter like myself didn't appreciate being startled by a whole human heart.  
"You okay?" Sam asked, looking slightly concerned. I nodded.  
"I will be when I figure out why our Lycanthrope abandoned his latest meal," I muttered. Sam shrugged.  
"Maybe it got spooked, ran off."  
"I don't think so. If it was scared, it wouldn't have taken the time to bury the heart. Something is fishy here." I beckoned the medical examiner who'd picked up the heart and started bagging it. He paused as I approached and handed me a pair of blue plastic gloves. I turned the heart towards the sun, frowning at Sam, who was hovering right in front of me.  
"Hey, Moose, you're in my light." He looked at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion.  
"How did you-" he started, but by then I had realized my colossal mistake and I interrupted him, shoving the heart in his face.  
"Look at the Vena Cava and Pulmonary Artery," I said. "It's not ripped. Look at it, it looks clean. Almost surgical. This may not be what we thought it was."  
As we drove to the witness's house, Sam kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. The fourth time he did it, I sighed in irritation and asked, "What is your problem?" He looked embarrassed at being caught  
"Why did you call me Moose?" Dean also looked slightly tense, but I was prepared. I put on my best confused face and said, "I don't know. You're huge, like a moose...Wait, I heard Bobby call you Moose once. Why? Does it bother you?" Sam looked relieved, Dean still looked a little tense.  
"No, just...wondering."  
'Wondering my ass', I thought but didn't say.  
The hiker who'd found the body was completely unhelpful in pretty much every way possible.  
Then we talked to the Vic's widow, Natasha Coleman. The only helpful thing she told us was that her husband had been getting into arguments with a man named Thomas Jacobs. Thomas had apparently gotten into a fight with her husband, shoving him into a table.  
According to the woman, Thomas had always been lukewarm towards her husband.

Until three months ago, when he'd become downright hostile.  
Bingo.  
We had a late lunch at Bigerson's, where Dean devoured a ridiculously sized burger, Sam had a salad, and I had fries, chicken wings, and a milkshake. Dean decided a trip to the bar was in order, so he dropped me and Sam off at the motel.  
We'd unloaded and Sam had gone inside, but I waited and asked Dean,  
"What time will you be back?" He still had a trace of suspicion on his face.  
"Why do you want to know?"  
I let a smirk enter my face. "Because I want to know how much time I’ll have to bed your brother.”  
Dean made a face. “I’ll be back by midnight. No details, and you both better be fully dressed.” He sped off.  
I took a hot, steamy shower and changed into the underwear set I’d bought at the drugstore and put on a pair of yoga pants and a top that tied in the back.  
Something sparked in Sam’s eyes as he surveyed me stepping out of the bathroom.  
I reached behind my back and undid the tie holding my shirt. It slipped from my shoulders, pooling on the floor at my feet.  
“You wanted to see my tattoo?” I asked, voice husky.  
His Adam's apple bobbed. "I do."  
We didn't do much talking for the next several hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello bunnies! Sorry I haven't posted in forever, I got a horrible fever AND my period at the same time :(  
> Cramps and puking do not mix.


End file.
